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Kate Carter '12 on divided allegiance, the YPMB-YGC football game, and transcendence of ancient hatreds.I am, as my Glee Club bio aptly puts it, a Benedict Arnold, a traitor to the cause of Glee Club domination. After failing to cajole, coerce, or otherwise convince me, YGC left me to the ranks of that menacing and bizarre force, the Yale Precision Marching Band, in the annual epicshowdown of musical powerhouses. The YGC-YPMB football game. A battle of glee against “precision,” of spirit, of “Y’s.” The score is unimportant (*coughthebandwoncough*). Vastly outnumbered (think 300), facing an opponent honed by weekly practices and killer duck-duck-goose matches, the Glee Club put up a valiant fight and emerged battle-worn but proud. I believe YGC’s efforts can be best described in the words of our manager and one of two fear-inspiring captains, Rachel Wilf: “Our all-star freshman (Ben Lewis, Connor Kenaston) played brilliantly, Atid Kimelman chose to play on our side instead of on th…

Like many things in the not-so-distant past, my memories of my first YGC concert are still fairly fresh (as far as memories go), but enough time has passed that they have distilled themselves into discrete moments; these pockets of clear recollection are surrounded by a fuzzy knowledge of what happened in between these moments (there's rather a difference between knowing that you hung out in the Woolsey rotunda and actually remembering every facet of the experience). Thus, I'm going to focus on the beads of clear memory I've strung together and gloss over the spaces between them, because...well, because I can't recall them clearly. And that's probably because they weren't interesting enough to be worth remembering, so you're not missing anything either way.

ANYHOW, I remember...

...walking into Hendrie on the night of the concert and being abruptly conscious of how well-dressed everyone looked (exce…